


FIC: The Thirst

by madam_minnie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gothic, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madam_minnie/pseuds/madam_minnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Awakening from a deadly slumber is very much like being drawn through an icy bath. It is the least favorite sensation I have experienced in this new form and one whose abhorrent nature serves to remind me of what I no longer am, truly alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIC: The Thirst

**FIC:** The Thirst  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Pairing:** boy/boy  
 _ **Summary:** Awakening from a deadly slumber is very much like being drawn through an icy bath. It is the least favorite sensation I have experienced in this new form and one whose abhorrent nature serves to remind me of what I no longer am, truly alive._  
 _A/N: I wrote this in one night... well morning. As it is now 4:25 A.M. and I just finished it. It's not edited and it's in the rawest format it can be. This has not been submitted to[3rdlegpress.com](http://www.3rdlegpress.com) yet. If you like it and you think it can be a good series, can you comment please and let me know?_

Awakening from a deadly slumber is very much like being drawn through an icy bath. It is the least favorite sensation I have experienced in this new form and one whose abhorrent nature serves to remind me of what I no longer am, truly alive.

It is usually the thirst that draws me from my coffin, but as I have learned to deny it, I wake weary and more deathlike than my brethren. Yet, as if pulled by puppet strings, I rise and greet the coming dusk.

It is a lonely existence, that of the vampire, and one I have grown accustomed to these hundreds of years. Memories of those I cared for in my first life still reflect like silent movies in my mind. The condemnation and damnation of my kind is to forever exist in this vast wasteland of mortal souls, feeding and Embracing them simply to slaughter them in the throes of passion.

The coven remains silent in their graves, some choosing to lie within the earth instead of above it. Not, I. I prefer to sleep alone in a large haven to myself. It makes me more susceptible to danger as anyone can find my lone coffin and in my gravely sleep stake my heart and forever keep me from feasting upon them again. No matter. It's not like I haven't been disemboweled, dismembered and disfigured with holy water or sent running from a village with the scorching reminder of their faith emblazoned upon my brow in the past. I have lived for centuries and it seems I will continue to remain long after my coven's ashes are upon the earth.

It is the thirst that wakens me. It is its allure that beckons me to the surface this night and of their own volition, my feet take a familiar path into the small village at the foot of my mountain. I do not wish to be here. It was here that my First Life came to an end. It was here that the Ancient beast that dwelt in the caves of the mountain snatched me from my bed and Embraced me, forever damning my soul and condemning me to a life of solitude. I have avoided this village and have even decreed it sacred ground to my fledglings.

"You may hunt throughout the lands and make thyself kindred, bringing others to the fold, but the village at the foot of the mountain is forbidden! It is sacred ground and should you step upon its holy earth you will surely burn as if the sun had kissed thy skin in the morning's glow." I had decreed it and thus, it had been obeyed. For three hundred years, the village remained unharmed and here I was, standing in the village square where my mother had once drawn water from the dried up well. The village had not changed much with time. The bottles of milk still lay empty in front of the door awaiting the milkman to gather them up. The daisies that warded off evil spirits still graced the windowboxes and upon every door lay the silver crucifix with its dangling mockery of their faith.

The thirst beckoned and I heeded its call with a fervor I hadn't felt in centuries. Is this what the beast felt when he snatched me from my bed that fateful night? Was his thirst rampart and my blood so enticing that he had to ravish me in my own bed? Memories of my death haunt me still and even in the early hours of my rising, I dream of him. Of his long-fingered hand encircling my wrists, pinning me to my bed. Of his body pressed tightly against my own, his hot breath against my neck and his piercing fangs against my skin. I could hear my heart in my ears, a sound I was never to hear again and his voice in my ear.

"It can be over in a flash or it can be pleasure beyond what you could ever imagine, my child," he had said. I couldn't move and staring into his fiery silver eyes, his ebony locks tickling my face, I couldn't stand to tell him no. I couldn't tell him to leave. Did I always want it? Did I always want this? Pale skin, long fangs, claw-like hands with long fingernails, a hollow shell ravenous for blood and nothing more? No, I had once wanted to live. I had once longed to grow old with someone, but his allure was too strong. His promise of forever and his kiss… his kiss upon my lips was sensual and heady. It was bliss and I didn't want it to end.

I remember moaning against his lips and his chuckle against mine as he slowly lifted his head and nodded.

"Close your eyes, my child. It will only hurt the first time," he whispered against my lips before nipping my lower lip and laving it with his tongue. Oh but he was beautiful!

"I want to watch the world leave as I die," I had whispered.

"Oh but you will," he said. "In time."

He pressed his body against me and I winced when his icy skin touched mine and wrapping my arms around his chest, I cried out when his fangs pierced my skin. The pain, was momentary, the pleasure of his kiss though, the feel of his body against mine was more than I could ever hope for. I wanted more, needed more of him and unabashedly I raised my hips and pleaded with this creature.

"It can be a lonely existence," he whispered in my ear, his hardness pressed against my own.

"I don't care!" I moaned. Fool! What did I know of solitude at that age? I was barely twenty-two. I had not learned what true solitude meant. But the feel of his body against mine as he moved against me and claimed me again, his fangs piercing deeper this time and when I screamed, he covered my mouth and drank deeper. His hips were moving against my own, the friction coupled with the sound of his mouth against my neck was too much and with a shuddering breath, I spilled against him, my cotton blanket our only barrier. He released me then, but he was not through with me for the night. I remember seeing his feral smile for a moment before my bedroom fell away and darkness enveloped me.

I awoke in a giant canopied bed in the middle of a drafty room. The ceilings were stone and there, standing at the small window was my beloved. My beautiful creature who's kiss was more exciting than anything I had ever felt in my short existence.

"Am I dead?" I remember asking. He turned to face me, his long flowing ebony robes open to reveal a perfect man. The beauty of his face was nothing to the beauty of his body. Alabaster skin covered every inch of his tall frame. Pink nipples, flat stomach leading to thin hips, a nest of black curls crowning his manhood, now flaccid between his long legs.

"Not yet," he replied in a honeyed voice. "Do you wish to die so readily?"

"I thought it was your desire to kill me."

He threw his head back and wrapping the robe around him, he walked toward me. "And what, my fledgling, do you know of my desires?" He trailed a long-nailed finger down my torso and it was only then that I realized I was standing nude before him. There had been no chill in the air, no breeze to alert me to my nakedness and when his skin brushed against my own this time, it was the pleasure of our bodies meeting again that brought shivers down my spine.

"I know nothing," I had stammered. "Of desire."

"Oh, but you do," he whispered in my ear. He lifted my hands above my head and moaning, I threw my head back and tilted my neck for his kiss. I wanted to feel him again, wanted to bring pleasure to him as he was bringing to me, but how do you please a vampire?

We are evenly matched in height, almost a perfect pair with out ebony tresses, though mine quite shorter than his. His robes were open again as he stood behind me and wrapping one arm around my chest, he slid his other hand down my stomach to my own weeping erection and sinking his fangs, he gripped my cock at the base and stroked it expertly with his long fingers. I wanted this, I kept whispering to myself and when I felt him whisper it against my mind, I gave into him. If he could penetrate my body, my skin, my mind and my very soul, there was nothing I could do to fight him and I didn't want to fight him. I wanted more.

The world was swirling away again as my eyes rolled into my head. I felt him at my entrance just before the world turned dark and woke moments later on my stomach on the bed. He stood beside the bed this time, watching me.

"You are a beautiful specimen," he said. "Here I am at the end of my days, ready to bring you to the beginning of yours and I don't even know you your name."

"Alejandro," I whispered. "Alejandro Roberto Montevideo."

"Alejandro," he repeated as if uttering a prayer. "It has such an enticing sound, Alejandro." I loved the way he pronounced it, with the right amount of rolling 'r' and a breathy 'hah' sound to the J. He was meant to say my name.

"I am Nikolai," he replied with a slight bow. "Of the Van Drusden clan."

"Nikolai," I breathed.

"You were meant to scream that name," he said with a chuckle and he was upon me at once, toppling me so that he lay atop me again, but this time, it was bare skin meeting and his was warm. "I offer you life eternal, Alejandro." He did not wait for my reply, he heard it in my mind and this time, when he sank his fangs into my body, I fought to keep my eyes open. I wanted to watch my life ebb away and his body warmed with my blood and filled as he drank of me. Colors changed, scents grew more acute as I neared my death and just as my heart began to still, he released me and slid down my body.

"You have not screamed my name yet, Neonate."

"You have not done anything," I replied gasping for breath. "That would merit my scream."

That was until, his lips wrapped around my weeping cock and I felt his fangs graze against the sensitive head. I remember the feel of the silk sheets fisted in my hands, the way his hair was driving me mad as his lips drew me closer to climax and my heart, giving out from the strain, slowed.

I remember his fangs upon my thigh as he drained me and I remember suckling his chest for his warm nourishment. The thirst was unbearable and I wanted to drink him dry, but he pulled me away and chastised me for not screaming his name.

The memory of that fateful night was still fresh upon me when I stalked into the village and neared upon the small cottage on the hill. But why had I been drawn here? Why this cottage above all others and why now after centuries of denying my thirst, did I heed the beckon of this small place?

Looking through the small window, I knew.


End file.
